


Our little love would last

by sarahcakes613



Series: The Cohen Files [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/M, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 16:42:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18996517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahcakes613/pseuds/sarahcakes613
Summary: Stiles has been in love with Lydia Martin for nearly seven years, and today is the day he’s going to tell her.





	Our little love would last

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starlux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlux/gifts).



_You got me singing  
The only song I ever had_

You Got Me Singing - Leonard Cohen

 

Stiles has been in love with Lydia Martin for nearly seven years, and today is the day he’s going to tell her. He’s pretty sure she already knows, of course, everyone from Headmaster Deaton right down to the kitchen elves knows that Stiles has been in love with Lydia for 2458 days and counting. He’s never actually told her though, and she’s never said anything about it, so there he’s been, in love and in limbo, for the entirety of their time together at Hogwarts.

She’s the first girl he’s ever loved, and it happened like so many of his other firsts, on the train to Hogwarts when he was eleven years old. In the years since, they had grown close as friends, first bonding over being the only half-bloods in their year in Slytherin.

He’s written and discarded half a dozen speeches, considered every possible way of finally telling her how he feels, face-to-face, and none of them have felt right. He’s tried to prepare for every potential reaction, acted out every possible scenario in his mind. He’s running out of time, there’s only a week left before graduation and they leave Hogwarts for good.

Stiles has already been accepted into the auror training program, and he knows Lydia’s received acceptance letters from at least three magical universities, though she’s still undecided on if she ultimately wants to pursue politics or arithmancy as a career. He knows whatever she chooses, she’ll be the best the world has ever seen, and it’s honestly a really good thing she’s never been interested in power, because a mind like hers could rule the wizarding world.

She’d be good at it, too. Stiles would be first to sign up, first to sign over his devotion to her, he already worships her, and she would be a benevolent goddess, he is sure. Well, pretty sure. He’s one of the few who know the true potential that lies within Lydia, her _bean sidhe_ heritage that emerged partway through their third year. Professor Hale, their head of house and professor of Transfiguration, had been able to connect Lydia to a witch in America with similar heritage, and Lydia and Meredith had regular Floo sessions for most of their third year until Lydia had gained control of her powers through, as far as he could tell, sheer bloody will. Getting there had not been easy though, and Stiles knows what Lydia is capable of more so than most of their classmates, knows how easily she could turn that power on others.

They’d grown closer after that year, and when they’d returned for the start of their fourth year, and Lydia discovered she could now see thestrals, Stiles had been the one she’d held on to, tears running silently down her face as the winged horses had driven them from the train station to the castle.

Stiles is pulled from his musing on memories by the appearance of Roscoe, his sooty owl. He’d been sent out some time ago to carry a note to Lydia. Stiles knows he could have just sent her a charmed paper plane, but Roscoe likes Lydia as much as his owner does, and is always happy when he gets to go looking for her. Roscoe has bits of milkweed fluff caught in his feathers, which means he’d found Lydia in the greenhouses. He is carrying a small scroll, which Stiles trades for a bit of broken off biscuit. Roscoe hoots cheerfully, carrying his treat into his cage. Stiles unrolls the missive, it’s the note he’d sent to Lydia, and she’s scrawled her reply at the bottom.

_Meet me down by Finstock’s pumpkin patch after supper? – S_

_I’ve got HG rounds after supper, but I’ll be there after that. – L_

Stiles nods to himself, he can work with that. More time to prepare. Or rather, more time to worry about all the possible ways this could go badly. He groans, flops face down on his bed, arm thrown over his eyes. He stays like that until he hears footsteps, his dormmates returning from a pre-supper quidditch practice.

His bed dips as one of them flops down next to him. “So, tonight’s the big night, eh?” Stiles cracks an eye open and wishes he could glare at Danny, but glaring at Danny is like trying to stare down a kneazle, or a chocolate lab. It just doesn’t work.

“What makes you say that?” He mumbles into his pillow.

“Ran into Lyds on the way back from the pitch, checked in with her about our patrols and she turned bright red. Saw Roscoe heading back here, put two and two together and got four. As in ‘for fuck’s sake, it’s about bloody time!’ You know there’s been a betting pool in place for at least a couple of years now, for when you’d tell her. I think even some of the professors are in on it!”

Stiles shoves Danny, who doesn’t even have the good grace to pretend to feel it. He drags himself out of bed and haphazardly throws his robes on. Danny spins him around and fusses with his collar and tie, straightening them out. “There,” he brushes invisible lint of Stiles’ shoulder, “the least you can do is look like you’ve made an effort. Go get ‘em, tiger!” He throws an arm around Stiles’ shoulder as the two of them make their way down to the Great Hall.

The room is barely half-filled when they get there, many of the students choosing to eat in their common rooms as they prepare for year-end exams. Danny pats Stiles again on the shoulder before heading over to sit with his boyfriend Isaac at the Hufflepuff table. Stiles sees Lydia sitting at the Slytherin table, chatting amiably with Erica and Julia. Her eyes keep darting to the entrance, and when they alight on Stiles her eyes widen slightly, and even from the doorway he can see her cheeks flush. Stiles feels like his feet have a sticking charm keeping them locked in place, unable to move from where he stands watching her. A group of second-year Ravenclaws push past him, breaking him out of his self-imposed trance.

All at once he feels a wave rise up in him, a feeling that this moment won’t ever come again and he is going to do it here and now, he suddenly cannot bear to wait until later tonight. He squares his shoulders and strides towards Lydia, sensing more than seeing people as he moves around them to get to the Slytherin table.

And then he’s standing in front of her and his mouth is cotton-dry, all words gone from his mind.

“Hi, Stiles,” Erica pokes him as she and Julia get up from the table. “Bye, Stiles.” They share a smirk as they leave, and now he and Lydia are as good as alone, the only other Slytherins a group of younger students all huddled over shared potions textbooks.

“Hey, Lyds.” Stiles stands there awkwardly. He fiddles with his robes, twirls his wand for something to do with his hands.

“Sit down, you’re making me nervous.” Lydia’s voice is sharp, and he hastens to obey, sprawling next to her. A plate and cup appear in front of him, and he helps himself to some food from the platters spread out on the table.

They sit together in silence while they both eat, and eventually Stiles knows he’s going to run out of time, and possibly courage, so he turns to face her. He reaches out a hand to her elbow, and she turns her face towards him, a questioning look in her eyes.

The myriad speech fragments he’d considered and discarded all run through his head one more time, but when he opens his mouth what comes out is the simplest option.

“I love you, Lydia.”

She blinks once, twice, but says nothing. He takes a deep breath and continues.

“I’ve loved you since the first day I saw you, and after six and a half years, I’m pretty sure I’m going to love you until the day my heart stops beating. Which might be soon if you don’t say something. Please say something, Lydia?”

His breath is catching in his throat now, as she reaches out to grasp one of his hands in her own. He feels a tremble and isn’t sure if it’s his hand or hers that is shaking.

“Oh, Stiles,” her voice is soft, and he hopes he isn’t imagining the fond tone in it. “Stiles, this may be the one and only time you’ve been able to beat me at something involving numbers.”

He doesn’t understand, and she shakes her head in amusement. “And here I’ve only loved you for four and a half years.”

It’s his turn to blink now, his brain trying to make sense of what she’s saying and he knows what he’s hearing, knows it was one of the possible outcomes, but it’s one he had only just allowed himself to believe possible.

She reaches to cup his cheek, pulls herself closer to him, until they are a hairsbreadth apart. Time itself seems to slow down as he moves to close that last bit of space between them and his lips touch hers. He is kissing Lydia Martin, and he doesn’t know if the fireworks he hears are in his head or actual fireworks. Knowing his friends, both are possibilities. He doesn’t care, nothing matters right now except the hum and the hymn of her lips on his.


End file.
